Stone had true mettle,” Lord Altar added, raising both hands, palm upward, as if he were pleading with the furious Lord Provost, “every guildsman who could bear arms would march out of Triune with me and help us finish this war for the good of Eyrie.”
Lord Baldric didn’t struggle against Windblown’s grasp, but he swore before declaring, “Stone will not be a party to war. Not now, and not ever. We’re a guild, not an army.”
“Thorn is taking a broader view.” Lord Altar wisely moved a few steps toward the chamber door, away from the Lord Provost. He brushed Stormbreaker out of his path with a single sweep of one arm. “My cousin Pravda has ordered Thorn to offer aid to Altar and Brailing soldiers, should we choose to send them into Dyn Vagrat. It’s either that or deal with the armies of Mab and Ross.”
“Your cousin may do as her conscience allows, I suppose, even when her guild charters demand otherwise.” Now Lord Baldric’s words were condescending, and something beyond angry and disgusted. He jerked himself free of Windblown’s grasp, and Dari didn’t know whether to keep herself seated or leap to her feet and prepare to draw weapons. “Family ties are supposed to be severed and forgotten when guild vows are taken, but perhaps Thorn has let go that tradition as well.”
Lord Altar seemed to hesitate. When he continued he sounded even more like he might be pleading—or as close to pleading as a man like him ever came. “Gemelle Mab has been fragile since her childhood. You know this, Baldric. Everyone does. She cannot bear the burdens that have been laid upon her.” He gestured toward the chamber’s north window, as if to point all the way to Can Rowan. “If she would listen to reason and allow the Circle to truly assist her with the rule of Eyrie, I would stop this campaign now.”
Lord Baldric didn’t grace those comments with a retort, but Dari couldn’t help staring at Lord Altar, relieved that he couldn’t see her in return. She could scarcely believe anything she was hearing. The oddly gentle tone, not the words he spoke, came near to stunning her senseless.
Did Lord Altar actually care about Lady Mab, in some personal sense?
A memory nudged at her, far in her mind’s distance. Something she had heard in childhood a few times.
Yes. I remember now. A tale of how Lord Altar in his youth had tried to woo Lady Mab, but failed. She wasn’t interested in a man so much her senior, and her attention had already been captured by the man who would become her husband.
Could that old story possibly have some truth to it?
And all these years hence, was Lord Altar still obsessed with a woman who had spurned him?
She had no time to ponder the possibility or its implications, because Lord Altar had decided his audience was at an end. To Lord Baldric, he said, “Remember my words. If you ever have a chance to persuade Lady Mab to listen to reason, take it.” Then he nodded to Stormbreaker, as if suddenly remembering the Stone Brother existed. “And you—fight well. I want blood for my niece’s pain and insult.”
Stormbreaker gave the dynast lord a polite bow as Lord Altar proceeded past him, to the chamber door, and out into the hallway, letting the heavy wood slam into place behind him.
No one spoke.
No one so much as moved, except Aron.
Dari watched him stand and bring himself to his full height.
Stormbreaker was watching Aron, too, his handsome face taut with concern. Windblown had his hand on his sword hilt, as if he might have to draw his blade to keep Aron in check. Lord Baldric and Zed didn’t seem as concerned, but both remained silent and alert.
“He was truthful in all he said, except the bit about Canus the Bandit being responsible for the Watchline massacre.” Aron’s essence remained calm, at least on the surface, and his disguise of dull colors, perfect in every respect. “He well knows who ordered those killings, though he may not have been directly involved—and I don’t believe he approves of what Lord Brailing did.”
The conciseness of Aron’s report surprised Dari as much as its contents. She had been so distracted by worry over Aron’s reactions that she sensed little from Lord Altar other than anger and aggression, and that last bit of weird affection for Lady Mab. As she stood and took her place beside him, she was captured by a